Chapter Four: "Into the Storm"

How long had I been on the run? I'd lost count. Could be days or weeks. I guess it didn't really matter. Well, except for the fact that Walter and I were starving.

I wasn't in town anymore. I'd made it to the mountains. I could pretty much say I wasn't going to be found. But what now? There was no game to hunt, no berries to pick. It was as if somebody had bled this place dry decades before we arrived.

And it was totally unfair.

Poor Walter. I dragged him into this. He could've been part of the girl's family if I'd just left him at the apartment. Then he wouldn't be hungry, cold, or exhausted.

Oh yeah. Almost forgot to mention that my little offering was accepted. The family took my apartment, sold most of it, swapped out some of my stuff for their old junk, and sold that junk. It was all going towards her funeral and some new home security.

Money well spent, in my opinion.

Anyways, I spent a few days up in the mountains without food. Shelter was easy to find. There were caves everywhere. And if I couldn't find a cave, I could easily make a small tent out of some branches and leaves.

Cars roared past on the highway below. Once or twice, police sirens signaled the start of a car chase or something big going on in the city. I never found myself willing to sleep after hearing the first siren.

I didn't know what to do. Considering my options, it was either I stayed up here and starved, or I turn myself in and get executed or something.

Both options weren't too appealing to me.

I voiced my concerns to Walter. Yeah, I know he's just a dog. I know he won't respond or particularly understand me. But I needed something to vent on. And Walter was there for me. He's always been there for me.

It was my last day in the mountains, but I didn't know it then. But that's when I came across the house. A little farm, a fair distance away from the highway. I couldn't see any cars. Either there wasn't anybody home, or they didn't have cars.

At the moment, I didn't really care.

I walked straight up to the door, and placed my crowbar into the door-frame. Then I froze. No, this is exactly what got me into this mess. I can't do this again. Not after last time. I pulled my crowbar out, and stared at the house. I really wanted to be inside. There had to be some kind of food.

But I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

Walter whined at my feet.

"Sorry, buddy." I said, looking down at him. "I can't."

Back into the forest we went. I kept an eye out for any type of food, but there was none to be found. The bushes were bare, the air was devoid of noise, and the woods were outright desolate. I wasn't sure I could make it much longer.

I wasn't sure if Walter could either.

We went to rest by a small creek, a good source of water. I lay down against a tree, and watch the water. Good old dihydrogen monoxide. At least I wouldn't die of dehydration in the near future.

Walter weakly trotted over, and laid his head on my leg. Poor guy. I didn't even think about bringing his kibble. I knew he was in pain. I could see it in his eyes. I wanted to help him so badly. I wanted to run into town and break into the nearest pet store. I wanted to take all the bags and cans of dog food I could carry and make a break for it.

But there wasn't enough time.

"I'm sorry, pal." I told him. My voice was soft and hollow. "I know you're hungry. I am too. I promise, the first thing we find is yours, okay? Just stay with me."

Walter blinked slowly. Once. Twice. Then he closed his eyes. And just like that, he was gone.

Now I've saved you all from some ghastly scenes a few times, but not this time. I can lessen the deaths of my abusive parents. I can pass over my slaughtering of a little girl. But not Walter. He meant too much to me for me to just gloss over what happened to him.

He'd always bring me food when I was a kid. Now was his final delivery.

I always heard rumors that Chinese food was made of dogs. I don't understand how Chinese people do it. Maybe it's because they didn't have a bond with the dogs? Maybe they try to imagine it's something else?

Either way, eating Walter was not easy.

I was starving. He was dead. It was either I used his death to live or I died with him. I don't know about you, but death is not an appealing subject for me.

I built a fire from fallen branches and leaves. It was easy to spark with just my crowbar and a small rock. I waited a while to make sure the fire was strong enough to last without my tending to it. Then, I faced him.

He was so peaceful. It was almost like he was sleeping. But his heart had stopped. He was gone. I almost couldn't believe it. But there he was, and he was dead. I whispered a silent prayer for Walter, and brought my crowbar to his stomach.

His guts came spilling out. He barely had any meat on him, but I put aside what I could and continued scavenging his corpse. I had to take some of his organs. I didn't even know if they were safe to eat, but food is food. If I died with it, I would have died without it anyways.

I scraped him clean. My crowbar, my hands, my coat, everything was drenched in blood. I was shaking horribly. It was too late to stop. I made a makeshift spit and skewered the meat before putting it above the fire.

While Walter cooked, I dug his grave. With my bare hands, I scratched at the dirt and moved it aside. My hands hurt. They were terribly scratched, and most likely those cuts would get infected, but I could worry about that later.

Soon, I had a hole large enough for his hollowed corpse. Gently, I laid my best friend into the grave, and covered him. I was glad his eyes were closed. I don't know what I would've done if they weren't.

The first bite was the worst. It wasn't the taste, no it wasn't the taste at all. No, it was the thought. The thought that this was Walter made me gag. I forced the disgusting feeling down, and continued eating.

The worst part?

The squirrel. As soon as I finished the last piece of Walter, the squirrel ran down from a tree and started to sniff around Walter's grave. My stomach churned. All this time, there was a squirrel.

Rage filled me. I forgot the meaning of mercy. Soon, the squirrel was flatter than roadkill. I didn't even want the meat. I threw it in the creek.

Nearby, I found a stick. It was large enough for the purpose I wanted it to serve. I carved his name into it. I carved his name, and put it at the head of his grave.

"Goodbye, Walter." I choked. I looked down at my crowbar. I dropped it. Taking a child was one thing. I didn't even know her. But now this thing had killed the only living thing I'd had for company in years. I refused to keep it any longer.

And that's when the sound of crinkling leaves made me spring to my feet.

"What did you see again, Mr. Dolby?" I asked the old man. He wore a simple plaid shirt, and jeans. His grizzly hair and beard were almost the color of pure silver. His icy blue eyes were filled with rage.

"That Jim Henson you've been looking for!" He shouted, shaking a fist.

"Do you mean Tim Denson?" I asked.

"Whatever his name was." Mr. Dolby grunted. "He tried breaking in, but then he ran into the woods!"

"How long ago?" I asked, suppressing my urge to sprint into the forest at that moment.

"Not even an hour." Mr. Dolby stated, making my heart skip a beat. I was close to catching him.

"I will alert my superiors and search the area." I promised. "Thank you, Mr. Dolby."

"Now hold on a second!" Mr. Dolby said, making me internally groan. "I don't want no more of you up here! This is private property! This here Jim is a trespasser! I'm coming with you, and if he tries anything funny, I have a rake out in the back to kill snakes with. He's just another varmint around here."

"You can come with me, but I will not hesitate to use force if you harm my suspect." I warned. "Just let me alert my superiors."

"I'll fetch the rake." Mr. Dolby said, as if he hadn't heard my warning.

"Commissioner Hunter, I've found a witness who has placed Denson on their property." I spoke into my walkie-talkie. "I'm in hot pursuit."

"Wait at your location, Fallon." The Commissioner's voice came back through. "He's armed and dangerous. I'm dispatching patrols to your location."

"With all due respect, sir," I said, my tone venomous, "I am perfectly capable of taking Denson. He was last seen less than an hour ago. If I wait, he'll slip away. Goodbye, sir."

"Dammit Fall-" Commissioner Hunter's curse was cut off when I hung up.

Mr. Dolby then came limping over to me.

"There's a fire." He said. I smiled.

I should've known there was someone in the farm. An old man and a young officer were standing just feet away, armed with a rake and a pistol respectively.

The officer seemed excited. The twinkle in his sea-green eyes told me that much. His black hair was neatly combed back, and his uniform was perfectly ironed. Obviously, he took delight in his job. That, or today was laundry day. I didn't really care.

"Tim Denson." The officer announced, his wicked grin ever present. "You have the right to remain silent."